Songfic: Prentiss: Weightless
by jungleanimal
Summary: songfic based on the song 'weightless' by all time low. Emily Prentiss's view on joining the BAU and how she feels about the job. rated for language.


_Manage me, I'm a mess._

_Turn a page, I'm a book,_

_Half unread._

I'm all over the place. I don't know what to do, what to think. I don't know where I'm going, all I know is where I've been.

And that's so many places.

Since my incident in Italy, I've realized how unpredictable and unstable my life is. So instead of trying to plan and map everything out the way my mother did, I will just be spontaneous and go with the flow. Because I sure as hell do _not _want to be like my mother. So I'll just apply for a position at the BAU. Sure, why not? The worst that can happen is they will turn me down.

Yeah, right. Because next thing I know, I am working alongside the greatest profilers and FBI agents, the greatest people, in the world. I just hope they can't read me as well as they can read the unsubs.

_I wanna be laughed at, laughed with_

_Just because._

_I wanna feel weightless, 'cause that_

_Would be enough._

According to Hotch, I "overcompensate because I don't yet feel I'm a part of the team". Well, he's right. Because no matter where I go, I can never fit in. As I told Rossi, I tried so hard to fit in when I was a teenager that I actually got myself pregnant. And guess what? I just became more of an outcast. No matter where I go, no matter what country or how old I am, I don't fit in. Even in the FBI where a-dork-able kids like Reid and sexy, macho men like Morgan are best friends, I still can't seem to find where I belong. So, yes Hotch, I do overcompensate, because I don't care what people think of me, as long as they know that it is me.

_But I'm stuck in this fucking rut,_

_Waiting on a second-hand pick-me-up_

_And I'm over, getting older._

Reid repeatedly reminds me that the term 'percent' literally means 'of one hundred', therefore nothing can ever be more than 100 percent—but I beg to differ. I never thought I'd see the day where I would be willing to bet against Spencer Reid, but the day has come. Because every day, I put _way_ more than 100 percent into everything I do. It's like I'm a hamster on a wheel, trying to find the way out. Running faster than I ever thought possible, only to stay in the same place for as long as I keep trying. And it's draining.

_If I could just find the time,_

_Then I would never let another day go by._

_I'm over, getting old._

Maybe, if I had a minute to myself, I would be able to think and reflect and make decisions—important decisions, about my life. Maybe if I could just have a day to relax and lay back, I would be able to take stock of my life.

But maybe I don't want to?

Truthfully, I'm a little afraid of what I'll find.

Because every day, all day, I'm going after the 'bad guys'. All my time is spent chasing monsters and unsubs and creatures that can hardly be classified as human.

But it's something that once you start, you can't stop. I _just_ started, and now I'm hooked. Not like I love it—quite the opposite, actually—but I just can't let it go. Maybe if I could, my life would be different.

Maybe if I could, I would _have_ a life.

_Maybe it's not my weekend, but it's gonna be my year._

_I'm so sick of watching all the minutes pass as I go nowhere._

_And this is my reaction to everything I feel-_

_I've been going crazy; I don't wanna waste another minute_

_Here._

Lose the battle, win the war. Or at least, that's what I keep telling myself. Every time we lose a kid, or even adult for that matter, I just tell myself that when we _do_ catch the unsub, it's so many more lives saved.

Still, that doesn't compensate for all the lives we've lost.

It drives me freakin' insane, what we do. We come to work, hop on the jet, fly across the country. Watch people die, ruin somebody's life, then come home, just to have the whole cycle start over again tomorrow. It's like sprinting around a track endlessly, just waiting for the finish line to appear, wondering how many laps you've done and how many you have left before you finally get to just _breathe._

Unfortunately, we don't even know how many laps we start out needing.

_Make believe that I impress._

_That every word, by design, _

_Turns a head._

_I wanna feel reckless, wanna live it up just because._

_I wanna feel weightless, 'cause that would be enough._

I'm new. Nobody wants to believe that I actually have potential, that I can be part of the BAU family. They can either bend with the wind, or break with it and, from my point of view, it seems that they are willing to take their chancing breaking.

Is it really that hard to just smile at me when I come in to work every morning? They are trying, I can tell, but they're not trying very hard. So I just keep on keepin' on, I just throw out my ideas as they come, hardly thinking them over in attempt to have them out in the air before anyone else thinks of them. And then I believe that every time I have a profile, they are inspired.

All I want to do is be able to work without it feeling like high school drama all over again. Can't I just save lives, minus all the adolescence 'not fitting in' crap?

_This could be all I've waited for,_

_This could be everything,_

_I don't wanna dream anymore._

Okay, so maybe this what I was meant to be. This is my dream, this job is everything I've ever tried to be. I never really fit in as a kid, so I figured I'd go into the FBI where not fitting in is perfect. This is all I've ever wanted, so I will take advantage of it. I won't let it slip away, just like everything else I've ever had.

My head can be in the clouds as long as my feet stay planted on the ground. Because this is my life, and I'm not going to throw it away again.


End file.
